


shine white, scatter red

by IvyPrincess



Category: Adekan, NCT (Band)
Genre: Adekan AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23821285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyPrincess/pseuds/IvyPrincess
Summary: The lanterns were lovely in their reflected glow, but in Jeno’s eyes, Renjun still outshone them all. “Don’t look for someone like me. I’ll only leave you in pieces.”In which the umbrella maker and the officer are more than they appear, and the whispers of Kinosaki are less than they seem.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53
Collections: noren fic fest round 1





	shine white, scatter red

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt #19!

“You were on your way out, weren’t you?” Renjun doesn’t look up from the tea he’s slowly sipping, unwilling to make eye contact with the young man lounging lazily across the low table from him.

“Now, now,” comes the returning drawl. “Is that how you address your beloved brother who has traveled miles upon dusty miles to come see you?”

Renjun snorts delicately, letting the soft clink of his cup ring through the small room. “The journey and the sentiment are equally undesirable, Jaemin. As is that garish hair color.”

The man’s unnerving grin widens to show even more teeth as he shakes his sakura-colored bangs out. “Aw, but Hyun found me so absolutely _fetching_ ,” he coos insincerely. “He couldn’t resist me at _all_ last night.” The tip of a tongue swipes alluringly across full lips, but the gesture is lost on Renjun, whose gaze is turned towards the window. Jaemin drops all pretenses, expression returning to something callously bored. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

Renjun glances at him once, deciphering his intentions completely. “And if I’m not interested?”

Now it’s Jaemin’s turn to scoff. “It’s not for you, it’s for that boy toy of yours.” A sudden deadly chill arises in the room, but he only smirks, unaffected by his estranged brother’s killing intent. “My, so overbearing.”

“You will have nothing to do with him.” Renjun’s response drips with icy venom, although he maintained enough self-control to keep his blades retracted. Lee Jeno is not for the likes of his brother to _taint._

Jaemin shrugs lazily. “And that’s why I’m here to pass the news on to you, hm?” Renjun looks away again, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. “I’ve been hearing some _intriguing_ whispers from Kinosaki of a demon haunting their local inn.”

Renjun sighs softly, matching the rustle of soft silks as he shifts slightly. “And how, pray tell, does village superstition pertain to me?” The only demon he knew was the one sitting across from him.

Jaemin leans forward eagerly. “Oh, but it’s not just any old haunting ground.” He puts on coquettish airs, letting the tip of a slender finger tap against pouty lips. “Why, don’t you remember where we had our _first time_?”

Renjun ignores the blatant innuendo, but he, too, was far from forgetting the location in mind. “The Noboribetsu ryokan?” He clarifies, immediately regretting his show of interest when he notices the gleam in Jaemin’s eye.

“Precisely,” Jaemin purrs. “Doesn’t it seem like just yesterday when we-”

He’s interrupted by a loud bang as the front door is flung wide open. Unfortunately, Renjun’s space is abysmally small, and the frame of the entire house shakes wildly. The teapot rolls off the table and lays on the tatami in shards, its contents seeping into the floorboards underneath.

* * *

It was too early in the morning to be facing such a lewd sight, or at least that was the only safe thought Jeno could have as he pointedly stared at the ceiling, waiting for Renjun and Jaemin to disentangle themselves from whatever previous activity had left them in a panting heap on the floor, all splayed fingers and bangs askew and flashes of exposed thigh and-

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something,” Jeno addresses the ceiling, praying they won’t comment on the audible strain in his voice.

There’s the sound of rustling fabric from below his gaze before Renjun finally speaks. “You’re here early today, Officer.”

Jeno, presuming it was safe to look down again, yelps at the blatant indecency, Renjun having done nothing but rearrange himself into a perch atop Jaemin’s broad chest, loose yukata still slipping delicately down one pale shoulder. 

“Please, dress properly!” Jeno yelps, silently cursing the heat rising to his face. “It’s not right.”

“Oh, but aren’t we all men?” Jaemin interjects teasingly, propping himself up on his elbows, making no move otherwise to detach himself from his brother. “Surely there’s nothing here you haven’t seen before,” he all but sings.

Renjun sighs in irritation as he stands up, making sure to trod on Jaemin’s chest, bare toes sinking painfully into his brother’s ribcage, as he walks around the low table to clean up the mess. From this angle, Jeno can see straight down Renjun’s deep neckline as he bends over to collect shards of porcelain, the taut stretch of pale skin over prominent collarbones, everything to the top of his loincloth on display, and Jeno’s teeth catch inadvertently against the plump of his lip as he fails to tear his gaze away.

Jeno is brought out of his daze at a sudden hiss from the slighter man as he observes a bleeding finger, cut on a jagged edge of clay, no doubt. Before he can justify his own actions, Jeno finds himself with Renjun’s hand between two of his own, lapping slowly at the tiny red droplets, pulling a surprised moan from Renjun’s throat. Jeno tries to resist the satisfaction he feels as Renjun closes his eyes and his head lolls back, wondering if this is how he looks when-

“My, should I leave you two lovebirds alone?” Comes the cloying drawl from behind the two of them, Jaemin observing the duo with mock fascination, and Jeno quickly comes to his senses, embarrassment flushing out all prior trains of thought.

“I-I’ll get you a bandage,” he stammers, shuffling over to the chest of drawers as Renjun blinks placidly behind him. “How are you today, Jaemin?” He prays they don’t comment on his abrupt change of subject.

“Oh, fine enough, but I would be better if my dear brother humored my silly little request,” comes the immediate reply. Jaemin smiles sweetly. “But maybe you would be willing to, ah, _indulge_ me in his stead?” Renjun scoffs from behind but says nothing to refute him.

Jeno blinks slowly. “Is something wrong? If there’s anything I can do to help-”

“Why, yes,” Jaemin purrs, eyes gleaming. “Yes, you can.”

* * *

Renjun pouts the entire way to Kinosaki. “Just think of this as a nice vacation,” Jeno calls cheerfully from the front of the wagon, chatting with the friendly driver as Renjun sulks in the back. “Look how nice your brother is to pay for our trip, too!”

Renjun makes a face that Jeno can’t see, although his fingers continue flickering skilfully over the silk flowers in his lap, unimpeded by the bumpy road. His officer had innocently agreed to look into the disappearances, always so eager to help whenever possible. But Renjun suspects that there will be more than meets the eye, especially if Jaemin had come all this way to personally deliver the news. 

He sighs, putting the needle down and looking out at the countryside. It had been many years since he had been to Kinosaki, that sleepy little village that had carved out its little nesting place amidst the stalwart mountains. It brought back memories of a past when he could still trust Jaemin with everything, when they truly were brothers in all but blood. Things had bitterly changed since then, but maybe, he reflects fondly as Jeno turns towards him, beaming foolishly in the noon sun, maybe things could be good now, too.

* * *

Jeno hadn’t traveled like this since he was a child, not since his parents passed away. Even the air up here smells different, suffused with unfamiliar scents from local street food and a faint hint of jasmine. The only damper on his mood is Renjun, who trudges petulantly towards the ryokan by his side, even though Jeno has double fistfuls of their luggage, all of which he had packed alone. Jeno isn’t oblivious to the tension that always permeates the air between Renjun and Jaemin, even though he acts it. It’s not his place to interfere between family, although he hopes that they can get along and cherish each other while they still have the time.

Jeno was friendly enough with the rest of his department, but that was different. If anything, Renjun was the closest person he could still call a friend, but there was something inside of him that strongly resisted thinking of Renjun as family. 

Jeno took a deep breath, squinting against the sun to look up at the inn. The Noboribetsu ryokan was elegant in its simplicity, dark wood offset by clean white walls, and it seemed to be well-preserved despite its historical prominence. 

The farmer that graciously agreed to take them with him had chattered on about its historical significance, an imperial gift bestowed upon Lieutenant Yamazaki after the war against the east, after the death of his commander. It had been passed down through the Yamazaki family ever since, and the current host was also a direct descendant. The pride of the north, the Noboribetsu onsens were fed by natural hot springs from the surrounding mountains, and Jeno hoped copious amounts of steam would be enough to help Renjun relax.

“Oh, hello there! Are you here as guests?” The woman who greets them by the entrance smiles gently, a basket propped against one hip. There’s a pregnant swell to her stomach, and it only enhances the kind warmth she seems to exude.

“Ah, yes, but please, allow me.” Jeno quickly drops their luggage to take the basket from her as she slowly walks around the reception desk, gesturing to where he can place it.

“Oh, thank you, young man, I appreciate the help.” She glances over at Renjun, who is visibly struggling with their bags. “Do you have a reservation?”

“We should have two rooms under Lee,” Jeno replies cheerfully, taking their things back from Renjun.

The proprietress frowns as she flips through the pages. “Hmm, it appears only one room was reserved… for Lee Jeno and Huang Renjun?” She smiles apologetically. “I sincerely apologize for the confusion.”

Renjun snorts quietly from behind Jeno. “Wonder how that happened,” he muttered.

Jeno flashes another rather strained smile. “That’s fine, we’ll take the single room.”

Their hostess bows slightly. “Thank you for accommodating us. Please, let me guide you there.”

The ryokan consisted of several buildings connected by a series of wooden walkways, and it didn’t take long for them to arrive at their reservation. The hostess left them to their own devices, with Renjun immediately collapsing onto the floor, long hair pooling like spilled ink across the tatami mats. 

Jeno prods him with his foot. “Come on, we’re on a mission.”

“ _You’re_ on a mission,” Renjun retorts, eyes closed and limbs sprawled. “I’m going to sleep.”

Jeno sighs, giving up and rummaging through the closet, unearthing two yukata sets. “At least change,” he replies without turning around, taking his own advice and shrugging out of his jacket. He undresses fully, wincing as the movement strains his ribs. He had taken a few bone-aching kicks to the chest in his last arrest, and while they no longer needed bandaging, his ribs still panged after such a long, bumpy ride. He reaches around to grasp the other side of the yukata, but slender fingers have beaten him there. 

Jeno slowly turns as Renjun tugs on the fabric, letting the smaller man wrap it securely around his waist. His eyes are focused on his own hands as he smooths the yukata out over the fading bruises. “Do they still hurt?” Renjun asks quietly.

Jeno hides his wince through gritted teeth, but luckily, Renjun hasn’t looked up to notice his expression yet. “Not anymore,” he lies, before sharply hissing as Renjun prods a finger into his ribs.

Renjun grins up at him, all teeth and danger and everything else that makes Jeno’s heart race. “Liar.”

Jeno was just happy he wasn’t blaming himself. “Your turn.” He holds out the yukata, eyes crinkling in the exact manner Renjun won’t admit he’s weak to, and watches him sigh in surrender.

Despite befriending someone so averse to wearing clothing, Jeno doesn’t think he will ever get used to the way Renjun casually undresses, nor the sudden yearning hunger surging through his gut as he watches those rounded shoulders reveal themselves. He bites it down the best he can, like he always does, tossing the robe at the back of Renjun’s head. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Renjun frowns quietly as Jeno leaves. “Strange.”

* * *

The hot springs are not far from their room, but Renjun insists on dawdling in a nearby courtyard instead. Despite its obscure location, tucked away in a back corner of the estate, the garden is bursting with vibrant blooms of all species, weighty blossom heads dripping from their stems, mirroring the graceful arc of the willow tree planted in one corner. It appeared to have been recently uprooted, perhaps from a different courtyard, the soil beneath its roots still damp from agitation.

Renjun leans off the raised walkway to press his face into one such flower, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. “I’ve never seen flowers as beautiful as these, have you?”

“Never,” Jeno agrees quietly, although his gaze never leaves Renjun’s face. 

“‘The okami is particularly fond of those,” a voice floats over from around the corner. “They’re her namesake, after all.” The speaker walks into the courtyard, appearing as a smooth-faced man in casual clothing, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He carried a small shovel with him, its tip gritty from use. 

The gardener, Jeno presumes. 

“And who might you be, to know so much about our hostess?” There’s a certain coyness suddenly present in Renjun’s tone. It has Jeno glancing to his side, but the umbrella maker’s posture seems predatory, not seductive, to his well-trained eye, so he quietly subsides.

The other man breaks out in a roguish grin. “I’m Ryu, I work here, of course.” He gestures with one hand to the tool in the other. “The madam is nice enough, but just between you and me,” he lowers his voice and leans in, “old Yamazaki can get a bit surly, what with the rumors and all.”

Renjun titters sweetly behind a hand. “The rumors of the inn being haunted? We heard the gossip on our way up.” He tilts his head playfully, letting his hair fall over one eye.

Ryu shrugs. “It’s been bad for business, is what it is. A few of the buildings have been boarded up for the season because there aren’t as many visitors these days, and they can’t afford the hands for their upkeep. It was already a bad harvest this year, too. There’s not enough for anyone, and with a child on the way, well…” He shrugs again, hefting the shovel over one shoulder.

“You and your young master will see for yourself at dinner, I’m sure.” Ryu jerks his head towards Jeno, who is startled to be addressed.

Despite the airs Renjun put on, his gaze sharpens. “You didn’t deny the rumors.”

The gardener’s grin turns crooked at the corners. “So I didn’t.” He leaves with a small wave, leaving Renjun and Jeno to stare in his wake.

After a brief silence, Jeno speaks up. “He mistook you for a woman, didn’t he?”

Renjun hums thoughtfully. “Jeno.”

“Yes?”

“I’m hungry.”

* * *

After washing up briefly, Renjun and Jeno make their way towards the front of the inn, where a maid was waiting to direct them into a small dining room. The proprietor and his wife, Tsubaki, had yet to arrive, so Renjun and Jeno took their seats silently in the middle of a long table spanning the length of the room. The attendant serves them just as quietly, only speaking to introduce the name of each new dish before retreating back out of the room.

Despite whatever financial troubles the village might be facing, the Noboribetsu ryokan lived up to its historical reputation, and the food was exquisite, each plate an ephemeral work of art, with a rich variety of meats and vegetables present. 

Renjun frowned, sucking gently on one chopstick. Even the ingredients were such high quality, but if Kinosaki as a whole was struggling this season, how much were they spending to import produce of this quality…?

Before he could mull further on the matter, the paper door slid open. In walked a stern man with a neatly-trimmed beard, his hand wrapped securely around the upper arm of the woman they had met earlier. She was sporting a rather anxious expression that she hurriedly hid as Renjun and Jeno rose to greet them.

“Oh, please, no need to get up for my sake,” Tsubaki shoos them away. “I do apologize for not dining with you tonight, but I wasn’t feeling too well. I just wanted to check in on you two before I retire for the evening. Seiji, these are our new guests.” She gestures to her husband, who nods impassively at both men. True to her word, Tsubaki does look slightly queasy, leaning gingerly into her husband.

Renjun dips his head over Tsubaki’s free hand, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. “Thank you for your gracious hospitality, then, madam.” He has the nerve to wink languidly up at her, and Jeno winces behind him as Seiji’s face turns stonier, but Tsubaki just laughs merrily.

“Oh, please, I’m much too old for a rascal like you.” But she seems pleased enough with the attention, at least until she retracted her hand from Renjun’s grasp and the sleeve of her kimono slipped enough to reveal a series of red welts snaking up her forearm. They resemble rope burns, Jeno notices, as if she had been bound tight recently. She gasps, quickly tugging the silk back down, but Renjun’s gaze remains locked on her face.

“Charming ladies should take care of their hands no matter their age,” the umbrella maker says slowly, observing her stricken expression. “Such esteemed elegance should not be… _restrained_.”

Jeno settles back onto his heels, watching the couple exchange a frantic look at Renjun’s remark. Tsubaki smiles anxiously. “Thank you for your… kind words,” she replies weakly. “I’ll be sure to proceed more cautiously.” The Yamazaki couple left as quickly as they had come, although Seiji never stopped frowning consideringly at Renjun.

The duo finish dinner in silence again, both lost in their own thoughts. Not until they began the return to their room does Jeno try to broach the topic again.

“Those were rope burns, weren’t they?” He asks quietly, but Renjun’s only response is a firm hand on his arm, eyes steadily watching the dimly-lit walkways.

Renjun doesn’t reply until the futons are laid out and Jeno has extinguished the lamp, shedding his yukata in front of the closet. “She had matching welts on her other arm,” he finally remarks, and Jeno doesn’t need to look behind him to feel Renjun’s gaze on his bare back. Jeno has always preferred to sleep in just a pair of cotton pants, but the tangible weight of Renjun’s stare has him thankful for the cover of a moonless night to hide his flaming cheeks.

“How do you know?” Jeno replies, turning around and self-consciously crossing his arms over his bare chest, eyes adjusting to the dark of night.

Renjun’s brows knit as he recalls their encounter. “You saw how uncomfortable she looked under her husband’s grip, as if it physically hurt her. Those were undoubtedly rope burns, but to be tied up and in pain, with such fresh marks, too…” He trails off, expression contorting. “Is that safe for someone with child?”

“What?” Jeno questions, but Renjun waves impatiently.

“Never mind.”

Jeno sighs, padding over to one of the futons he had laid out earlier. “Let’s ask again in the morning,” he suggests, crawling between the layers.

Renjun hums noncommittally, head turned contemplatively towards the door.

* * *

The covered footpaths through the ryokan are silent in the darkness, their usual occupants all turned in for the night.

All, that is, but one.

“Who’s there!” Seiji cries out hoarsely at the sudden rustle in the shadows, but no noise beyond the whisper of a mild breeze heeds him. He spends a few more minutes peering beyond the light of his lamp, but only the camellias are there, waving innocently in reply. Besides, he’s spent enough time dawdling already tonight. Hurriedly, he unlocks the door to a padded storage room, in which Tsubaki lays gasping on the floor.

Seiji carefully hangs his lamp on a hook by the door, grabbing the familiar lengths of rope again. Gritting his teeth, the proprietor advances on his wife. 

“I’m sorry about this,” he murmurs apologetically. “I really am.”

* * *

“Renjun?” Jeno peers sluggishly at the open door, in which a figure remains motionless, silhouetted by the dim glow from the walkways beyond him. “Come back to bed,” he rasps, shuffling over slightly so Renjun can reach his own futon, but he feels a warm weight crawl into his own bedding.

Jeno stiffens at the sensation of linen against his bare back, warm hands wedging themselves into his sides as Renjun curls up next to him. This close, he can feel the ragged breaths the smaller man exhales near his ear, and he turns over, squinting. “Where did you go?” He whispers, wondering if Renjun had snuck away in the middle of the night to go snooping. A flash of hurt throbs in his chest at the pointed silence that follows, which was all the answer he needed. “You could’ve taken me with you.” Doesn’t Renjun trust him by now?

Jeno feels fingers trace the curve of his cheek, and he’s still sleepy enough to have no inhibitions about leaning into Renjun’s touch. “I’m sorry,” the smaller man breathes out. “Don’t pout.”

Jeno gives in to temptation, reaching out to tuck Renjun in against his chest, chin atop his head. “‘M not pouting,” he grumbles, feeling an answering shiver from Renjun as his baritone travels through both their bodies. “Just don’t want to get left behind.” And it’s more honest than anything he’d ever confess when sober, that fear he can barely verbalize.

Jeno’s always known about Renjun’s checkered past. He’s known whatever life the ex-assassin walked away from had shattered something human that could never be reclaimed. He knows there’s a story behind every blade Renjun keeps hidden, every scar flashing silver in dim light, stories Renjun is hellbent on keeping from him, but he doesn’t understand why.

It’s not like Jeno’s profession is any safer, any more distant from danger, and with the way Renjun seems to attract trouble, it’s more a relief than anything else that at least he has the skills to defend himself.

Jeno feels the shaky breath Renjun exhales into his chest. “I could never leave you behind,” the smaller man whispers, and Jeno wonders if the timid confession was meant for his ears. But it’s late, and his eyelids are growing unbearably heavy now that such a warm and reassuring weight is in his embrace, and he slips under the gentle caress of his mindless dreams.

* * *

Breakfast the next day is a stilted affair, the events of the previous night still weighing silently on the morning’s ambience, but the tension is muted in the growing light, now that other guests have trickled in to eat. 

Besides Renjun and Jeno, the other guests at the ryokan appear to be an elderly couple ready to depart, and a timid young maiden who squeaks like a mouse when anyone addresses her.

Jeno frowns. If these were the ryokan’s only clientele at the moment, then no wonder they were struggling to stay afloat. 

As they rose to leave, Tsubaki finally approached them again, smiling weakly. “Could we… talk?”

* * *

“Lee Jeno,” Seiji states, both hands fisted in his lap.

“Sir,” Jeno responds calmly, returning the older man’s gaze steadily. They had been led into the couple’s private rooms.

“You were responsible for Kamoshida’s arrest last winter, were you not?” There’s a strange gleam in the proprietor’s eye. “I thought I recognized your name from the papers.”

Jeno dips his head briefly in acknowledgment. “Yes, that was me, although I had logistics help from–”

“You’re not here to investigate the rumors, then?” Tsubaki interjects anxiously.

“No, madam, not unless you feel they need investigating.” Jeno gestures to Renjun, who had been observing their conversation from under heavy-lidded eyes. “My friend and I are here on vacation.”

Renjun tilts his head, ponytail falling forward over a shoulder. “The Noboribetsu onsens have much renown,” he murmurs quietly, although his voice has enough presence to command the room’s attention. “I stayed here years ago, although not for long.” He gazes upward at the exposed wooden beams, dark with age. “This ryokan has stood for many generations now, holding memories for countless guests.”

Seiji nods gruffly. “This place is my pride, as it was my ancestors’, and as it will be my descendants’. But,” he hesitates. “The current situation threatens to ruin us, and while I do not like to ask for help, dignity will not fill our stomachs, nor our coffers.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” Tsubaki picks up hesitantly. “That this inn is haunted by a demon.”

“But demons don’t exist,” Jeno interrupts softly. “Do they?” The Yamazaki couple share a glance before Seiji suddenly bows down, forehead to the ground.

“Please, please save my wife from the demon!” He begs passionately. “Every night, she thrashes unceasingly in her sleep, wailing like the devil is in her, and if I do not restrain her, she claws at her belly so savagely I fear for our unborn child.”

Beside Jeno, Renjun makes a sudden noise of understanding, to which Tsubaki nods slowly, tears in her eyes. “The… marks you saw last night,” she says haltingly, clutching at her own wrists. “They could be easily mistaken but I, I…” She buries her head in her hands, weeping.

“This… have you seen a doctor?” Jeno asks slowly, trying to wrap his head around their story. “There has to be a mundane explanation for all of this.”

Seiji shakes his head, sitting back up. “The doctor refuses to come near her,” he confesses. “All I can do is to restrain her every night. Is there anything you can do for us?”

Jeno frowns. “Would you mind if I touched base with the local deputy? I’ll see what I can do.”

“They gave up on us weeks ago,” Tsubaki confesses, one hand stroking over her swollen belly. “But if there’s anything you can do, that’s already more than we would dare to hope for.” She smiles through her tears. “Thank you, both of you.”

As they part ways, Jeno for the police station and Renjun for their room, the umbrella maker wonders at what they had just witnessed. Despite the theatrics, the tears, neither husband’s nor wife’s expressions had reached their eyes.

* * *

Bored after a midday nap, Renjun wandered back into the small courtyard they had stumbled over yesterday, secretly pleased that Jeno had remembered to pack his sketchpad and paints. While more used to working on his umbrellas, there was something tranquil in tracing nonsensical designs, letting his mind stray as his hands fly instinctively over paper.

He sits beneath the willow tree, wrinkling his nose as the freshly overturned soil stains his yukata, but it’ll have to do. From this vantage point, he was all but hidden from the rest of the world, eye level with the raised walkways, melding into the camellias around him. From a distance, the breeze carries hushed whispers over.

“–are going to get caught! He’s asked the officer who checked in yesterday–”

“Can’t you just get it over with?”

“N-no, it hurts too mu–”

“It’ll hurt more when _he_ finds out. You know someone’s going to find out what he’s been doing–”

“ _Don’t_. Don’t mention it, just… I’ll try again tonight. For us.”

A sigh of relief. “ _Thank_ you.” A pause. “You know I love you, it’s just…”

“No, I understand. I love you, too. And I _will_ , I promise. It’ll all be over soon.”

Renjun remains still, brush poised over the paper in his lap, although the corners of his lips curl up mockingly. How intriguing, that the gardener and the hostess are having an affair. Heavy footsteps approach him, and someone calls out in surprise. “Who’s there!”

Renjun looks up, blinking. “Me,” he replies languidly. It’s Ryu again, looking distinctly uncomfortable but trying to hide it. 

“Ah, I didn’t see you!” He chuckles, one arm coming up to sheepishly scratch the back of his head. “How long have you been there?”

Renjun shrugs. “Just got here.” 

Ryu’s shoulders slump subtly in relief. “It is pleasant outside today,” he replies, clumsily changing the subject. “Where’s your friend, the officer?”

Renjun tilts his head, considering the gardener from beneath his lashes. “Jeno is in town, although I don’t recall ever mentioning his profession.”

The other man smiles uneasily. “I heard about it from Tsubaki. You two are planning on investigating what’s wrong with her?”

Renjun carefully wets his brush in a different color. “Mm. We will try. You two are close?” 

The gardener crouches down by the edge of the walkway, sighing. “Both of us grew up around here as children. Our families were neighbors, so we became friends easily enough.” He smiles more genuinely this time, reminiscing. “Ran around together so often, everyone thought we were siblings. It’s thanks to her I’m even working here now, too. Are you and Jeno childhood friends, too?”

Renjun pauses mid-stroke to contemplate his answer. If he had met Jeno as a child… He lets his imagination take over for a minute, wonders if that heartachingly bright smile would have been enough to save him, if they had met young enough. He wonders how different he would be, too, if he had learned to smile like that.

“No,” Renjun replies calmly, expression bland, even as his heart races. “Nothing like that, no.”

Ryu groans, rising back to his feet. “Well, that’s enough chitchat for now. I need to get back to work, even if Seiji’s taken over half the landscaping because of a shortage of hands.” He dusts himself off, nodding at Renjun. “You and the officer might not be childhood friends, but you must be close enough, if you’ve been painting him all this time.”

Renjun stays frozen long after the gardener had ambled off. True to his words, the paper is filled with rough, watery sketches of Jeno with his brows knit and mouth open to speak, Jeno roaring with laughter, the frame of those sloping shoulders, that dimpled back during an afternoon nap. Renjun quickly puts the brush down. He shouldn’t have let his thoughts wander so freely. He had no right to.

He sets everything down, pushing one hand into the ground to steady himself to his feet, but his hand catches between two roots, sinking deep into the earth between them. Renjun frowns, ready to yank his arm back out, but his fingers brush over something wet and mealy in the dirt, a different texture from the soil itself. When he frees himself, his hand is stained reddish-black, some sort of congealed sludge dripping from his fingertips. He sniffs them delicately and pauses. Sniffs again, before rapidly dropping to his knees and scrabbling through the soil with both hands. When he finally unearths what he had been looking for, he sits back on his haunches. It’s the young girl from this morning, the shy one who flushed every time Renjun so much as looked in her direction, blue and bruised and missing a little more than just her life.

Funny, really, how different someone can look without their limbs.

* * *

Jeno doesn’t manage to make his excuses from the station until the sun flickers just above the horizon and his stomach is growling, so he isn’t particularly enthused to spot a head of tangled black hair swaddled in a futon, facing away from the door. He sighs, walking forward to prod the figure with one foot, but they keep rolling across the room, and Jeno freezes.

It’s not Renjun, but a female corpse, one whose arms and legs have been gruesomely hacked off. She’s nothing but a naked torso covered in dirt, and Jeno comes to a chilling realization that it’s one of the other guests from this morning.

“Renjun?” He calls out, the panic bleeding into his voice, but the man in question appears from their little balcony.

“What,” Renjun snaps back sullenly, as Jeno joins him in a hurry.

“Why is there a _dead body_ in here?” Jeno can’t help the shrillness in his voice, standing there bewildered as Renjun continues methodically sharpening his ever-present knives.

“Found her buried in the courtyard. I think maybe a few of our other missing guests may have been fed to the trees, too.” Renjun doesn’t glance up as he carefully sheathes each blade again, contorting to slide them back into a holster on his leg. Jeno swallows dryly at the flash of thigh from beneath his yukata, but the decomposing torso in the other room makes it hard to focus on the sight in front of him.

“You think they killed her? What do you have her body? And what are we going to do now?” Jeno has so many questions, and Renjun doesn’t seem like he’ll be sharing the answers anytime soon.

The umbrella maker finally straightens up, a mischievous grin on his face. “Firstly, I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out for sure soon.” He counts on his fingers as he speaks. “Secondly, no one will be looking for it, but you’ll need to turn it in to the local police as evidence. We can hide her in the closet. And as for now...” Renjun trails off, patting Jeno on the cheek as he slips past him to bustle around the room.

“Why, we’ll go to dinner, of course.”

* * *

Despite knowing Renjun’s suspicion that Tsubaki and the gardener may have been responsible for so many murders in the area, Jeno starts second-guessing his thoughts. He doesn’t think anyone with a smile so kind could be capable of such horrific murder, and even Seiji is friendly tonight, seemingly cheered by Jeno’s willingness to assist as he continuously offers them drinks.

Renjun seems to somehow avoid most of the alcohol their host keeps foisting on them, but Jeno isn’t willing to appear rude and finds himself downing Renjun’s portions, too. His alcohol tolerance may be a bit higher than most, but whatever was served tonight must have been especially potent, and Jeno finds himself feeling more and more flushed through each course.

Renjun is staring at him with that inscrutable look in his eye again, but Jeno is too tipsy to be neither bothered nor flustered, and he finds himself staring back, eyebrow raised challengingly. For once, Renjun is the first to look away, guiding their hostess into another witty conversation across the table, and Jeno lets go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Much like last night, the dishes are still colorful and much too excessive for a village supposedly going through massive agricultural struggles, but Jeno won’t look a gift horse in the mouth, savoring bites from every plate as Renjun looks on with exasperated fondness. Somewhere between courses, Seiji slips out of the dining room and comes back inside with a huge pot.

“Bone broth,” the innkeeper explains proudly, setting the pot down. “I boil it myself every few days for Tsubaki, so our child can be in the best of health.” He sits back down next to his wife, who smiles appreciatively.

“Oh, Seiji, please, we can at least share it with our guests tonight, too.” She kneels upright to ladle broth into a bowl and hand it to Renjun, who shakes his head.

“Thank you for the kind offer,” he demurs. “But really, you’ve already more than outdone yourself tonight, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Jeno frowns slightly. “I’ll take a bowl, thank you Tsubaki.” But as soon as he grasps it from her hands, he hisses from a sudden sharp pain in his thigh and drops the bowl onto the table with a clatter, its contents tipping out onto the table and spilling all over him.

“Oh dear,” Renjun frets over Jeno, having retracted his fingernails from Jeno’s leg. “You must have had too much to drink tonight, we should get you to bed.”

Jeno scowls at the smaller man, dizzy from the alcohol and the wet burn seeping through his clothes, as Seiji and Renjun help him stumble all the way back to their building before the innkeeper bade them goodnight. “Wha’ was that about?” He slurs as Renjun props him up in the corner of their room. He’s not as drunk as Renjun made it seem, but it was starting to blur everything in his mind.

“Shh,” Renjun hushes him urgently, straddling Jeno’s hips and grabbing his face between both hands. “Jeno, listen to me. They put something in the sake tonight, probably a sedative. No, look at me,” he urges, when Jeno’s head threatens to loll to the side again. “Jeno, you need to stay here tonight.”

At those words, Jeno endeavors to get up, despite Renjun pressing him down. “What, no, Renjun, I–”

“You are in no condition to go anywhere tonight,” Renjun enunciates clearly. “I need you to stay here, where I know you’ll be safe.”

Jeno scrunches his face up in concentration. Why was it so hard to even _think_ through the haze? “You’re leaving me behind again?” And maybe it comes out more dejected, more honest than he meant for it to. Renjun hesitates though, and Jeno takes the opportunity to press his point. “I can take care of myself, I swear, I just don’t want to lose yo– mmph!”

He’s cut off as warm lips smash into his own, Renjun tilting his face slightly upwards to deepen the kiss. His lips are softer than Jeno ever imagined, but they move so assertively against his own, tugging Jeno’s bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back completely and smirking at how dazed Jeno looks, eyes closed and instinctively chasing his coy retreat. They don’t have time for this right now, not when the killer is still loose, and tonight is the perfect night to spy on the household, when whoever drugged them had lowered their guard.

“I promise you, Lee Jeno,” Renjun vows, the ferocity of his gaze visible even in such dim moonlight. “You will not be losing me anytime soon.” He climbs to his feet, pulling Jeno up with him. “Just stay here. Please. I’ll be back soon.”

Jeno watches him slip away into the corridor, melding into the shadows. “Soon,” he repeats to himself, settling in to wait.

* * *

The first place Renjun navigates to is Ryu’s, a small set of rooms tucked away near the plant nursery, but the man appears to be sound asleep. Renjun frowns, padding away quietly. If he truly had killed the girl, why was he not taking advantage of Jeno’s decommissioned state? And for that matter, how on earth would Ryu have spiked the sake without being there?

Without thinking, his path takes him to the padded storage room that Tsubaki had been confined in last night. It was quiet, nothing to be heard but the leaves whispering to each other. He steps forward quietly and nudges the door. How strange, it was still unlocked, even this late at night. He walks inside, noting the lengths of rope laying on the ground. But where was Tsubaki…? 

Renjun whirls around in realization, but it’s too late, and everything fades to black.

* * *

Jeno jolts awake with a gasp, heart thudding loudly as he finds himself slumped over by the door to their room. His drug-induced stupor had been far from dreamless, full of impassive gazes and a chilling finality, and he almost wonders if Renjun kissing him had not been the dream instead, because reality always found a way to be cruel.

_The lanterns were lovely in their reflected glow, but in Jeno’s eyes, Renjun still outshone them all. “Don’t look for someone like me. I’ll only leave you in pieces.”_

But Jeno could never tear his eyes away from Renjun, no matter how bloody his past, no matter how much agony this affection cost him, and so he rises to his feet, because he's always been attuned to Renjun, and something is very, very wrong.

* * *

“So it was you,” Renjun croaks when he finally comes to, restrained tightly against a pole with the very ropes he had observed in use the night before.

“Me,” Seiji agrees, hands clasped behind his back, and that manic gleam more present than ever before. “You know, if it hadn’t been for your discovery, everything could have just gone on as it should have.” He smiles joylessly. “You could still have walked away with your life.”

Renjun observes him closely, motionless like a kingfisher before it strikes. “Would you have continued killing people?”

Seiji’s smile widens. “Yes. Of course. Anything for my unborn child.”

Renjun straightens in surprise, thoughts racing as a few things click into place. “My god. Tsubaki. You’ve been feeding her with–”

“I just did what I had to,” Seiji interjects sharply. “Do you know how difficult it’s been to buy meat these days? It made sense, since there was such a… _supply_ right in front of my eyes, to make do with what I had.”

Renjun laughs, amazed. Even now, people still continued to surprise him. “It’s not even your child,” he tells the indignant man. “Your wife’s been sleeping with the gardener.”

The sudden blow to his cheek has him seeing stars, but even as Seiji drags him up by his collar, Renjun makes sure to keep that irritating smirk on his face.

“Lies!” The proprietor hisses viciously, scanning Renjun’s face frantically. “It can’t be.”

Renjun smiles lazily. “You know I’m telling the truth, even if you don’t want me to.” He suddenly kicks upward, flipping backwards and out of the man’s grasp as the bindings around his wrists fall apart, sliced through by one of his many blades.

However, Seiji regroups quickly enough to grab an axe, and Renjun winces as he blocks swing after swing with his knives. “You can’t hold out forever,” the crazed man pants out as he throws his weight behind the blow, Renjun forced to his knees as he struggles to keep it from coming down on his head. “No one will come looking for you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Comes from the door behind them, and Renjun’s eyes widen as he dives out of the way, watching a huge blur smash bodily into the innkeeper and cause them to tumble into the far wall. Renjun scrambles to his feet, watching Jeno pin the other man into the ground, one knee on his back. “It’s over, Yamazaki,” Jeno orders. “Give up.”

* * *

“Does it still hurt?” Renjun asks quietly a few days later, fingertips grazing gently over the gauze on Jeno’s cheek, but Jeno knew he wasn’t asking about the bruises. He turns to nudge into the touch, pressing his lips to Renjun’s palm. 

“No,” he replies softly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”


End file.
